In the Fire of the Forge. Georg Ebers
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Schorlin gazed thoughtfully after him a short time, then beckoned to Biberli and, though the interval required for him to reach his master’s side was very brief, it was sufficient for the bold young lover, tortured by his ardent longing, to form another idea.
“Look yonder, Biberli!” he exclaimed. “The holy-water basin on the door-post, the escutcheon on the lintel above, the helmet, which would probably bear my weight. From there I can reach the window-sill with my hand, and once I have grasped it, I need only make one bold spring and, hurrah! I’m on it.”
“May our patron saint have mercy on us!” cried the servant in horror. “You can get there as easily as you can spring on your two feet over two horses; but the coming down would certainly be a long distance lower than you would fancy—into the ‘Hole,’ as they call the prison here, and, moreover, though probably not until some time later, straight to the flames of hell; for you would have committed a great sin against a noble maiden rich in every virtue, who deemed you worthy of her love. And, besides, there are two Es. They occupy the same room, and the house is full of men and maid servants.”
“Pedagogue!” said the knight, peevishly.
“Ay, that was Biberli’s calling once,” replied the servant, “and, for the sake of your lady mother at home, I wish I were one still, and you, Sir Heinz, would have to obey me like an obedient pupil. You are well aware that I rarely use her sacred name to influence you, but I do so now; and if you cherish her in your heart and do not wish to swoop down on the innocent little dove like a destroying hawk, turn your back upon this place, where we have already lingered too long.”
But this well-meant warning seemed to have had brief influence upon the person to whom it was addressed. Suddenly, with a joyous: “There she is!” he snatched his cap from his head and waved a greeting to the window.
But in a few minutes he replaced it with a petulant gesture of the hand, saying sullenly: “Vanished! She dared not grant me a greeting, because she caught sight of you.”
“Let us thank and praise a kind Providence for it,” said his servitor with a sigh of relief, “since our Lord and Saviour assumed the form of a servant, that of a scarecrow, in which he has done admirable service, is far too noble and distinguished for Biberli.”
As he spoke he walked on before the knight, and pointing to the tavern beside the Frauenthurm whose sign bore the words “For Thirsty Troopers,” he added: “A green bush at the door. That means, unless the host is a rogue, a cask fresh broached. I wonder whether my tongue is cleaving to my palate from dread of your over-hasty courage, or whether it is really so terribly sultry here!”
“At any rate,” Heinz interrupted, “a cup of wine will harm neither of us; for I myself feel how oppressive the air is. Besides, it is light in the tavern, and who knows what the little note will tell me.”
Meanwhile they passed the end of St. Klarengasse and went up to the green bush, which projected from the end of a pole far out into the street.
Soldiers in the pay of the city, and men-at-arms in the employ of the Emperor and the princes who had come to attend the Reichstag, were sitting over their wine in the tavern. From the ceiling hung two crossed iron triangles, forming a six-pointed star. The tallow candles burning low in their sockets, which it contained, and some pitch-pans in the corners, diffused but a dim light through the long apartment.
Master and man found an empty table apart from the other guests, in a niche midway down the rear wall.
Without heeding the brawling and swearing, the rude songs and disorderly shouts, the drumming of clenched fists upon the oak tables, the wild laughter of drunken soldiers, the giggling and screeching of bar-maids, and the scolding and imperious commands of the host, they proved that the green bush had not lied, for the wine really did come from a freshly opened cask just brought up from the cellar. But as the niche was illumined only by the tiny oil lamp burning beneath the image of the Virgin, bedizened with flowers and gold and silver tinsel, fastened against the wall, Biberli asked the weary bar-maid for a brighter light.
When the girl withdrew he sighed heavily, saying: “O my lord, if you only knew! Even now, when we are again among men and the wine has refreshed me, I feel as if rats were gnawing at my soul. Conscience, my lord-conscience!”
“You, too, are usually quite ready to play the elf in the rose-garden of love,” replied Heinz gaily. “Moreover, I shall soon need a T and an S embroidered on my own doublet, for——Why don’t they bring the light? Another cup of wine, the note, and then with renewed vigour we’ll go back again.”
“For God’s sake,” interrupted Biberli, “do not speak, do not even think, of the bold deed you suggested! Doesn’t it seem like a miracle that not one of the many Ortlieb and Montfort servants crossed your path? Even such a child of good luck as yourself can scarcely expect a second one the same evening. And if there is not, and you go back under the window, you will be recognised, perhaps even seized, and then—O my lord, consider this!—then you will bear throughout your life the reproach of having brought shame and bitter sorrow upon a maiden whom you yourself know is lovely, devout, and pure. And I, too, who serve you loyally in your lady mother’s behalf, as well as the poor maid who, to pleasure me, interceded for you with her mistress, will run the risk of our lives if you are caught climbing into the window or committing any similar offence; for in this city they are prompt with the stocks, the stone collar, the rack, and the tearing of the tongue from the mouth whenever any one is detected playing the part of go-between in affairs of love.”
“Usually, old fellow,” replied Heinz in a tone of faint reproach, “we considered it a matter of course that, though we took the most daring risks in such things, we were certain not to be caught. Yet, to be frank, some incomprehensible burden weighs upon my soul. My feelings are confused and strange. I would rather tear the crown from the head of yonder image of the Virgin than do aught to this sweet innocence for which she could not thank me.”
Here he paused, for the bar-maid brought a two-branched candelabrum, in which burned two tallow candles.
Heinz instantly opened the little roll.
How delicate were the characters it contained! His heart’s beloved had committed them to the paper with her own hand, and the knight’s blood surged hotly through his veins as he gazed at them. It seemed as though he held in his hand a portion of herself and, obeying a hasty impulse, he kissed the letter.
Then he eagerly began to study the writing; he had never seen anything so delicate and peculiar in form.
The deciphering of the first lines in which, it is true, she called him a godly knight, but also informed him that his boldness had angered her, caused him much difficulty, and Biberli was often obliged to help.
Would she have rebuffed him so ungraciously with her lips as with the pen? Was it possible that, on account of a request which every lover ventured to address to his lady, she would withdraw the favour which rendered him so happy? Oh, yes, for innocence is delicate and sensitive. She ought to have repelled him thus. He was secretly rejoiced to see the sweet modesty which had so charmed him again proved. He must know what the rest of the letter contained, and the ex-schoolmaster was at hand to give the information at once.
True, the hastily written sentences presented some difficulties even for Biberli, but after glancing through the whole letter, he exclaimed with a satisfied smile: “Just as I expected! At the first look one might think that the devout little lady was wholly unlike the rest of her sex, but on examining more closely she proves as much like any other beautiful girl as two peas. With good reason and prudent caution she forbids the languishing knight to remain beneath her window, yet she will risk a pleasant little interview in some safe nook. That is wise for so young a girl, and at the same time natural and womanly. I don’t know why you knit your brows. Since the first Eve came from a crooked rib, all her daughters prefer devious ways. But first hear what she writes.” Then, without heeding his master’s gloomy face, he began to read the note aloud.
Heinz listened intently, and after he had heard that the lady of his love did not desire to meet him alone, but only under the protection